Threads of Love

by Frances Devine

Tearing his gaze from her, he redirected it on the road. Whatever their mothers were up to, it would prove interesting.

  After five tours, five bloody, heart-wrenching tours, he wanted something good to happen for him. Trace swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He’d known what he’d gotten himself into when he enlisted and then reenlisted as a combat medic. But nothing had prepared him for the sights and sounds of war. And its dangerously strong aftereffects.

  His faith, and memories of the good times with his family, kept him afloat. When most medics washed out in one or two tours, Trace kept going. Longer than what was healthy.

  Danica pushed herself upright and moaned.

  “Do you have any pain meds?” he asked.

  She looked at him. “In my carry-on.”

  Which was behind their seats. Trace sighed. She’d have to wait until they got to her mom’s house. Next best thing was to get her mind off it.

  “Pro level, huh? Going for the Olympics?”

  “Trying. Gotta get this knee healthy before we can start again.” Her athletic pants rustled as she shifted. “Are you on leave?”

  “Switching duty stations. Visiting my folks before I report for duty at Fort Carson.”

  “How’d you manage getting stationed here?”

  He shrugged. “Pull the right strings and you can get what you want.”

  “How are your parents?”

  Trace slowed the truck and turned onto a residential street. “Good. Just celebrated their thirty-sixth anniversary.”

  “Wow, that’s a long time.”

  “My grandparents made it to their sixty-seventh before my grandma died.”

  Facing him, Danica’s mouth puckered. “How did they do it?”

  Trace’s heart constricted. He heard through Mom that Danica’s grandmother had passed away a year ago. The woman had been Danica’s lifeline to her mother’s family.

  “Sheer determination. ’Bout sums it up.” He turned down the street to her mom’s house. “That’s what my grandpop always said.”

  “Hmm.” Her attention returned to the windshield.

  “I heard about your gram’s passing. I’m sorry.” Trace slowed the truck, his gaze darting along the street, counting the houses to find the right one.

  “In heaven probably dancing her heart out for Jesus.”

  Trace grinned. “Won’t we all be doing that?”

  The fourth house on the block stood dark. This was the Lindsay home. Hadn’t Danica’s mom waited up for her? That summer they’d hung out, her mom didn’t seem to care what time Danica returned home as long as she got home. Back then she left the light on. Or maybe Danica had when she left the house. She admitted her mom didn’t pay much attention to her, so she was free to do pretty much what she wanted.

  Back then she was ready to head off to college. What parent held onto rules at that point?

  Trace pulled into the drive and cut the engine. “Is your mom out or something?”

  “Uhh …” Her mouth drew into a thin line, and she swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll check.” He moved to exit the truck.

  Danica grabbed his arm. “Wait.” Her hand fell away. “Ah man. She would do it, too.”

  Rotating to face her, Trace frowned. “Do what?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Mom probably skipped town. She complained about being here on the anniversary of Grams’s death. Too many memories. But she never told me she would actually leave.”

  Trace frowned. “You’re here alone?”

  “Apparently.”

  His gaze dropped to her knee, then up. “In that huge house, with an injured ACL?”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Excuse me. I’ve been on my own since I tore it.” She popped the door handle. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

  Before he could bail from the truck and reach her side, she was out of the cab and had her bags in hand, ready to hobble to the door.

  “Danica—”

  “Trace, I don’t go by that name. It’s Danni. Always has been.”

  Tossing a rope around his ire and stuffing it away, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine, Danni.”

  Under the streetlight, he noticed the lines in her forehead. She was probably frustrated to no end with him, but she needed to learn to lean on people once in a while. Or maybe he was someone she didn’t want to lean on? Two and a half months twelve years ago hadn’t given them much time to get to know each other.

  “Hold up. Let’s think about this before we go off half-cocked.”

  She tilted her head as if to say, I’m listening.

  Groaning, he ran a hand over his face. “I can’t in good conscience let you stay here alone. If your knee gives out again, you might not be able to get help.”

  “I’m not an invalid.”

  “No, just stubborn.”

  She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

  Did she have to prove him right? Maybe it wasn’t tenacity he’d seen in her—maybe it was a streak of bullheadedness.

  Trace held out his hand as a peace offering. “You only have to stay at my folks’ place for tonight. Let your knee rest, get some sleep, and I’ll bring you back here tomorrow.”

  Her features smoothed and her arms slid to her sides. She sighed. “For tonight. But I have to be back here tomorrow. I’m meeting up with my cousins in a few days and I need to get ready.”

  “Yeah, the family reunion thing.”

  He picked up her duffel bag and carry on and placed them in the backseat, hesitating at the subtle scent of citrus and coconut tickling his nose. He savored the closeness until she shifted. Stepping back, he shook his head. “Hop in. Then maybe you can tell me what this family reunion deal is about on the way to the ranch.”

  Danni glanced into the cab, back to him, then hobbled up. He closed the door behind her, catching her irritated grimace. Good. She was going to have help, whether she liked it or not.

  Hopping into the pickup once more, he pulled out of the drive and headed for home.

  Silence saturated the air around them. Guess she wasn’t ready to spill the story yet. She sighed and slumped in the seat.

  Trace resisted the urge to drum the steering wheel. “Meeting up with your cousins have anything to do with the anniversary of your grams’s passing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Something special about it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to see them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Danni, you’re going to have to elaborate here.”

  She looked at him, the streetlights flashing across her face. “Trace, I’m really not in the mood. I’m tired, I hurt, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you just railroaded me into going to your ranch.”

  “All right, fine.”

  She slid farther down in the seat. “There’s one good thing about staying at the ranch. It’ll be quiet, and I can sleep in.”

  Oh no. Trace winced, and his gaze darted to her. “Um, Danni.”

  Her eyes closed and she let her chin drop to her chest. “What, Trace?”

  “My family is having a welcome home party for me tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She was not going to like this. Especially with her body still running on West Coast time. “Danni, this is going to be a big party.”

  Her eyes snapped open and she gaped at him.

  “The house is full. You’re not going to get any peace and quiet.”

  Chapter 3

  A soft whiff, whiff, whiff dragged Danni out of deep sleep. She pried one eye open and found a white, furry nose in her face. She squealed and bolted upright, startling the black-and-white ball of fuzz. In a flurry of claws and blankets, the thing jumped off the bed into the arms of a blond pixie with pigtails.

  “You’re not Uncle Trace!”

  Danni gaped at the child clad in pink-and-green camouflage from head to toe. “How’d you get in here? I had the doo
r locked.”

  One arm clutched around the fuzzball, the girl pointed at the closet door. “There’s a secret door in there.” She stroked the rabbit. “You scared Duchess.” The girl set the furball on the bed.

  Long, silky black ears perked up, and the pretty little thing scooted closer to sniff Danni’s hand. She smiled and stroked its fur. “She’s pretty.”

  “Uncle Trace got her for me last time he was home. Mommy and Daddy said I can’t have any more.” The girl hunched down beside the bed, resting her chin on the edge. Changing course, the rabbit hopped to her owner and started licking her nose. “I think Duchess needs a friend.”

  Danni racked her brain. Trace had an older sister, Julia.

  Eyeing the child in front of her, Danni estimated her to be about five or six.

  “Misty?” Trace’s voice penetrated the door. “Are you in there?”

  A screech erupted from Misty, and she grabbed up the startled rabbit. Danni had two seconds to drag the blankets up to her chin before Misty flung open the bedroom door and launched herself into her uncle’s arms.

  “I couldn’t find you. Why aren’t you in your room? Mommy said you came home late last night.” Misty plopped a fist onto her hip, and her face puckered, Shirley Temple style. “And you didn’t give me a come-home kiss.”

  Trace laughed and planted a raspberry on Misty’s cheek. She giggled and squealed, the poor rabbit probably squished to death between them.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Misty wiggled Duchess free and held her under Trace’s nose. “Duchess wants one, too.”

  A pained expression covered Trace’s face. Danni hid her grin behind the edge of the sheet. Wouldn’t that be something to see—Army-man Trace Bryant kissing a rabbit.

  “I think Duchess likes your kisses more.” He set the girl down. “Your mom said it’s time for breakfast.”

  She clutched his hand and tried to drag him along. “Come eat with me, Uncle Trace.”

  “In a minute.” He extracted his hand. “Hurry up, or your mom will come looking for you.”

  Misty took off. Trace watched her go then looked at Danni.

  Heat flushed her face, and she sank lower into the bed. “Niece?”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  “She’s cute.”

  “Yeah.” Red colored his cheeks. “Um, breakfast is ready.” He backed out of the doorway. “Hurry if you want something to eat.”

  “Okay.” Danni clutched the blankets as he nodded and closed the door. She let out a breath, stirring stray strands that fell in her face.

  This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

  Certain she was alone, she slipped from the bed and entered the adjoining bathroom. Last night before going to bed, she’d removed the stabilizing tape on her knee and massaged it like the therapist had shown her. Twenty minutes later, Danni emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Rummaging through her suitcase, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a yellow short-sleeved blouse and dressed. As she ran a brush through her damp hair, her attention drifted to her surroundings.

  When Trace escorted her here last night, Danni didn’t bother to look the room over. She’d taken five minutes to get ready for bed and then collapsed, falling asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow.

  Her gaze slid from the huge map of Iraq dotted with red pins to the equally large map of Afghanistan with blue pins. She drifted to the maps, squinting at the oddly named towns. Did the pins mark places Trace had been stationed?

  A glint to her right drew her to a shelf lined with mementos. A small plastic box was propped against a rodeo belt buckle. Danni picked it up, and her throat tightened. The Bronze Star. What had Trace done to receive this? Cold dread pricked her spine. People who received this star had most likely faced something horrific.

  She set the box down. Since the start of the war, she’d verbally supported the troops, going so far as playing in a special match in South Carolina put on for the soldiers. But had it really meant anything to her? Another promotional ploy. A rung up on the ladder to the Olympics. She felt like she’d only paid lip service to her country, when guys like Trace had faced untold dangers to just come home.

  Danni hadn’t planned on staying for the homecoming party. She dropped the hairbrush on top of her suitcase. Maybe she should stick around. Trace deserved that much from her. The meeting with her cousins was in two days. Plenty of time to ready the quilt blocks and find Mom’s piece.

  Danni glanced at her suitcase and blew out a breath. A little makeup probably wouldn’t hurt. She pulled out her small cosmetic case. Typically, she refused to wear makeup. What was the point when she showered between games all the time? But there were occasional moments when she had to get dolled up for a benefit or charity event.

  With a sigh, she returned to the bathroom. This was no charity event.

  It was Trace Bryant, a Bronze Star recipient.

  Trace grinned at his niece as she chatted with her rabbit like it was a close friend. Duchess munched on a carrot and didn’t seem to care. Orange lined the rabbit’s mouth, making her look like she wore lipstick. The whole scene was too cute.

  “Misty, eat your pancake,” Trace’s sister said as she passed the table.

  “I’m full, Mommy.”

  Julia sighed and set a stack of boxes on the kitchen counter. “Fine. Put your plate in the sink and go wash the syrup off your hands.”

  “Okay.” Misty hurried the plate to the sink then rushed back to her rabbit.

  “Don’t pick up …” Julia groaned when Misty grabbed the poor thing in her sticky grasp.

  Trace chuckled. “Too late.”

  His sister scowled at him. “Now you can clean it.” She extracted the squirming ball of fuzz from a protesting Misty and plopped it in Trace’s lap.

  He winced as its claws dug into his thighs. “Ow.”

  A wide smile on her lips, Julia scooted Misty out of the kitchen. “Don’t give her a bath. A wet washcloth will do.”

  Eyeing the matted fur, Trace looked at his departing sister. “Why not a bath?”

  “ ’Cause then you’ll need stitches,” Julia called from down the hall.

  “Come on, Duchess.” He scooped up the rabbit and gingerly carried it to the sink.

  Soft footfalls brought his attention to the doorway. Danni entered the kitchen, a bemused expression on her face. Trace did a double take. Was she wearing makeup?

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He glanced at Duchess. “Cleaning syrup out of her fur.” He ran a wet cloth over the rabbit.

  Danni joined him. “The thing is terrified.”

  “You would be, too, if you belonged to Misty.” He scrubbed a stubborn sticky spot. “I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

  “I’m surprised you gave a—how old is Misty?”

  “Seven.”

  One of Danni’s eyebrows rose. “She’s seven? I thought she was younger.”

  Giving her a one-shoulder shrug, Trace dumped the hairy washcloth in the sink and cradled the rabbit against his chest. “I was younger than Misty when I got my first pet.”

  “A horse doesn’t count as a pet.” A mischievous smile turned up the corners of her mouth. She rubbed the rabbit’s head. “She’s adorable.”

  So was Danni. The yellow blouse brought out the blond highlights in her hair and the rosy tint in her cheeks. She smelled like peaches and cream today. Hard as she tried to be a tomboy, Danni’s feminine side often slipped through. Did she realize how pretty she was? And how much it affected him?

  Trace’s chest ached. He’d hoped and prayed for a second chance with her. Never did he imagine he’d get it. He had to make the most of what little time he had with her today.

  “How’s your knee feeling?”

  “Better.” She moved to the coffeemaker. “Can’t even tell I overdid it yesterday.”

  “Good.” Trace placed Duchess in her cage, glimpsing Julia and his mother outside hanging red, white, a
nd blue banners. They didn’t have to do this again. The four previous homecoming parties were more than enough. But no one said no to Mom and lived to tell about it.

  Worry and nerves played havoc on his gut. He needed to tell his family. His secret weighed on him like a millstone. The elated expressions on his parents’ faces when he told them he was getting out of the service had stifled any desire to reveal the true reason. So far the triggers that set off his post-traumatic stress disorder hadn’t occurred around his family. Hopefully they never would. Hopefully they could bask in their hero worship for a day or two longer.

  “Wow.” Danni’s breathless voice sent shivers down his back.

  Trace looked at her. Her green eyes were riveted to the spectacle in the backyard.

  “When they throw a party, they go all out.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his belt to avoid caressing her face. “Fifth time around. Mom and Julia have this down to a fine art.”

  Danni stared into her coffee mug, the amusement and wonder gone.

  “Would I impose if I stayed for your party?” She gave him a hopeful look.

  His heart swelled. Lord, is this a dream? Am I getting a chance to spend more time with her?

  “You’re not imposing on anything. We would love it if you stayed.” I would love it if you stayed.

  Her gaze returned to the decorating outside. “It’ll be nice to see your family and some of our old friends again. It’s been so long.”

  Trace couldn’t help but think that this party would be a lot more beneficial to Danni than it would be to him.

  Chapter 4

  Country music mingled with the boisterous laughter and conversations of Trace’s friends and family. Danni hovered at the back of the party, nursing a lemonade and regret. She shouldn’t have asked to stay. Ridiculous sentimentality. There were other ways to show her appreciation for the sacrifices that Trace had made for their country.

  She swirled the lemonade, watching it swish around in the plastic cup. Were her cousins in town yet? When they were together for Grams’s funeral, they had discussed how to go about fulfilling her request. Grams wanted their mothers to reconcile within a year, but Zoe’s mom had been bad off, then passed away. It now fell to the cousins to set right what their mothers had ripped apart.